


Ring of Fire

by chase_acow



Category: Teen Wolf (2011)
Genre: Dark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn Battle, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:34:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chase_acow/pseuds/chase_acow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles hadn't said anything then. For the first time in his life, the words wouldn't come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ring of Fire

Beacon Hills blazed behind them, flames raging impossibly high, scorching the night sky until even the stars ran away. The woods reflected yellow highlights, making it easier for Stiles of all people to lead the others to safety. He fell, cutting another gash in his knee, but struggled up pushing Derek and Scott ahead of him.

The burns on Scott healed slowly, no doubt impaired by Scott's total disinterest. He'd watched his girlfriend kill his mom, helpless to do anything but writhe on the floor under the heavy boot of another hunter. They'd all seen the fire melt the skin from people whose only crime was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Stiles had to hover to make sure Scott ate, changed his bandages, and actually slept when he closed his eyes and hunched his shoulders.

On the other hand, Derek did exactly what Stiles told him, his movements fluid and immediate. The betrayal by his uncle, the tortured by the bitch, Kate, for three days straight, and the memories brought back from the first fire left him an empty shell. Stiles never thought he'd miss Derek's growls, his sarcasm, and the cuffs around Stiles' ears when he made a bad joke. Wherever Derek was, it wasn't in the one room shack Stiles had found for them to lay low in for a couple of days.

The Argents must have called in every hunter they knew after the Alpha unleashed his full torment on the town. Anybody suspected of being a werewolf or friendly to werewolves didn't last long. Between the two groups, the death toll had skyrocketed, including Stiles' dad, mauled and half-eaten, left where Stiles had been sure to find him. Derek had helped Stiles bury him in a grave marked by a pair of lacrosse sticks tied together to make a cross.

Stiles hadn't said anything then. For the first time in his life, the words wouldn't come.

It still didn't feel real, Stiles hadn't let any of it sink it. He couldn't afford to, not if he wanted to keep the others alive. Instead, he thought about everything else, how to feed them, where to steal more medicine for Scott, how to lose the hunters still tracking them, and wondering why there wasn't a shorter word for _monosyllabic_.

"Your heartbeat is fluttering."

Stiles nearly dumped the pan of water over Derek instead of placing it on the rickety table. The words sounded louder than gunshots in the silence that had settled over the three of them. He dropped the rag, the cleanest he could find, in the water, and pulled up a chair opposite Derek.

He had tried everything else, waited until the gnawing ache in his stomach was too much before he asked. Everything he found went first to Scott and then Derek and himself, but it wasn't enough. Finally, Stiles asked Derek to shift and go hunting for something they could eat. Derek came back with a full stomach, two rabbits in decent shape, and covered in blood.

Good thing Stiles had been the first in his scout club to earn his wilderness survival badge.

"Life after medication," Stiles answered quietly, wringing out the rag before he gently cleaned the dried blood from Derek's face. Derek probably could have done it himself, but the bunnies were sizzling and Stiles liked to keep his hands busy. "The good thing is I can't tell if I'm depressed from the withdrawal or from the complete destruction of everything I've ever known. Plus, running for our lives seems to be a miracle focuser. Wish I could market it, we'd make a fortune."

"Stiles," Derek's voice creaked, and he seemed to run out of steam after that one word. Instead, he dipped his hands into the pan and scrubbed until the water tinted pink. He waited until Stiles finished with his face and stood by himself to check the rabbits spitted above a small fire.

A smile stretched across his face, the first Stiles had managed since they'd started running.

That night, Derek curled around him instead of standing at the window watching the moon. He flattened his palm over Stiles chest, tapping his thumb in rhythm with Stiles' heartbeat. It felt nice, being held, touched by someone and Stiles started to feel something besides the numbness. Derek rubbed his back as he finally cried all the tears he'd held back.

It was easier after that, with Derek an active force in their flight. Scott even perked up, finally shedding the dead skin that had started to rot and growing shiny red skin back in its place. He watched as Derek and Stiles circled each other warily before giving into the inevitable. One night, when Derek had actually found them a summer cabin abandoned for the off-season, Scott crawled into bed between them.

They were no strangers to sleepovers, but Scott had never tucked his face against Stiles neck and hugged him tight enough to push their hips together. Stiles froze even as Scott made the tiniest whimper in the back of his throat, and he looked at Derek.

"All we have is each other," Derek said, shifting up so he could see over Scott's back. He curled his hand over Scott's hip and dropped his mouth to a tender patch of Scott's shoulder. "If you want to help him, don't turn him away."

Scott arched between them as Stiles kissed his eyebrows and down his nose and Derek pulled his shirt up to tease his nipples. His mouth was so wet and hot, pliable under Stiles' tongue, enough to forget the horrors dogging their feet. Getting their clothes off took forever, and Scott ended up facing Derek for more filthy kisses and thrusting hips. Stiles shifted closer, rubbing into Scott's lower back, one place that hadn't been burnt to a crisp in the firestorm.

There wasn't any skillful choreography, none of the artful bending like in the cheap porn Stiles used to watch online. He kept one hand on Derek's tense muscles and the other on Scott to keep their movements synced. Friction, heat he wasn't scared of, desperation and kinship finished him off quickly. He snuck his hand between Derek and Scott, stroking Derek's cock while he sucked on Scott's neck.

They were sticky and smelly, but Stiles finally shut his brain off as he cuddled his way to the middle. His werewolves were alive and together, even if he didn't have anything else going for him, that was enough.


End file.
